German language

I grew up in Germany, dad was in the army and we were stationed there for the first half of my life. Christmas there is a magical thing, not mad rushes to Walmart for a DVD player. The coolest thing I remember from back then, my dad.

My dad would let us open all the presents under the tree on Christmas eve. We mixed German and American traditions in our holiday. After the gifts were opened, there was always something that we needed to go do. He would pack us in the car, then say, “Wait I forgot my wallet.”. He would run up and put out the BIG gifts, the ones Santa delivered. Unaware, we would look at the lights and drive until we kids passed out. Carefully putting us in bed, we would awake to that dirt bike/guitar/RC car we had really wanted.

Like this:

So I grew up in Germany for the first half of my life, the best half. Here are a few rules I am going to stick by as to not incriminate myself or others.

I will try not to use real names. I probably can’t remember them anyway.

I am going to jump around in time so much that The Doctor would go nuts.

I will trynot to give away any military secrets. Try.

ALL TRUTH! If I say I got laid in the stairwell of a German department store, it happened. I also smoked a huge doobie sitting with my friends at the Louvre glass pyramids.

I am going to turn this into a book and travel to these places for closure, I need closure.

Boring background stuff.

I was born in Asheville NC and lived in Waynesville NC for the first five whole years of my life up until then. I had no choice in the matter. My father, rest his soul, had been in the army and had done some time in Vietnam, not a popular thing at the time. He got out because, well he was wounded and got the FREAKING Purple Heart for his troubles. He came home to me and my screaming older brother. I think I was doing most of the screaming as I was born with a club foot. Yeah! Tiny baby comes out, doctor says, “I am gonna break that fucker until it is straight!”. He did and I was the baby with the cast who bugged the hell out of people by banging it on the floor like I was trying to tell them, “GET THIS BITCH OFF ME!”. My father knew. He knew that his meager prison guard pay was NOT going to pay for this whole family thing. So he disappeared for a few months. He came back, he was just getting back in the army. Yay!

First port of call, or whatever in army terms… Germany!

Picture this… My mom with five-year old me, twelve-year-old brother and many suitcases, in DC, alone and trying to find the freaking airport! She did, we boarded I guess and my new life was to begin! I also learned about barf bags that same day.

Landing in Germany was a bouncy time. I was five, 5= (Likes Bouncy)? Not so much. This is where I discover bags, that people somewhere make, any you are allowed to barf in them! First discovery once in Germany? We were moving to a place called Mannheim. Second discovery? We didn’t have a HOUSE! We had to live in “temporary housing”, which meant living on the 3rd story of a very nice Germany families home. I was a bit freaked out, with all the weird people speaking in a way I did not understand. I was 5! I was just getting the grasp of English when I was blindsided with this. I got past everything when one of the younger children saw that I only had the toys I brought on the plane as a carry on,and in a bold and selfless way, gave me a black, plastic, Lawn and Garden size bag of Lego! Can you imagine? A HUGE bag of Lego! I could build to the heavens.

All good things and all that, happened and we were assigned our first house in the military housing area. Meaning I lost some culture but discovered friends I could five-year old converse with. I also discovered Pomme Frites. These are the German version of french-fries, and are the , most amazing food ever! I will, no, I must have them again from a German Imbiss before death.

From humble beginnings in the Great Smokey Mountains, all the way to Germany at five years old. Hang tight folks, kissing, porno mags and a buffalo will be in the next installment.